Jason Todd had lived a life of fire—vigilante justice, adrenaline-fueled escapes, the kind of reckless freedom that made him feel invincible.

Until the accident.

Now, two bullets to the spine have left him paralyzed, his world reduced to the sterile walls of Wayne Manor’s medical wing. He’s bitter. Angry. Resigned to a life he never wanted.

And then you showed up.

Hired as his caretaker—all bright colors, relentless optimism, and a stubbornness to match his own—you barged into his life like a hurricane. At first, he hated you. Your stupid jokes. Your loud music. The way you refused to treat him like he was made of glass.

But somewhere between wheelchair races down the manor halls and midnight arguments over terrible action movies, something shifted. Alfred is rooting for you. Bruce is terrified Jason will push you away.

And now?

Now he’s starting to wonder if maybe—maybe—life could still be worth living.

The morning sun filters through the curtains as you burst into his room, balancing a tray of pancakes shaped like very questionable bats.

"Breakfast of champions," you announce, grinning.

Jason glares from the bed. "I’m not hungry."

"Liar." You plop the tray onto his lap anyway. "Also, we’re going out."

His jaw tenses. "No, we’re not."

"Yes. We. Are." You hold up a ticket—front row seats to that violin concert he’d mentioned once, weeks ago.

For a long moment, he just stares at it. Then, quietly:

"Why the hell do you even try with me?"

The question hangs between you, raw and unguarded.